Port Royal, Jamaica

[Aurore Devareaux]

"Oui..." she whispered as her hands found shirt hem and disapeared beneath to trace the contours of his back."Perhaps you would benefit without the burden of adornments...."

[Capt. Sterling]

He closed his eyes, relishing in the feel of her touch against his skin. "Mmmm Chere," he groaned lightly. He quickly then unbuttoned ruffled cuffs. "I think I would agree," he chuckled.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Carefully removed to prevent aggrivation to injuries, shirt was discarded without further thought. Nimble fingers moved to waist band bindings, making quick work of their release. Any evidence of refined carriage dissipated rapidly as carnal fires stoked and an untamed quality overroad careful polish that was given to the outside world. Aurore focused once more on the shadows that danced with hearth glow over his face and a smile of more predatory nature gained hold upon her expression.

[Capt. Sterling]

Toe to heel back soon brought off buckled shoes. Leather garters were manipulated with equal speed and soon with stockings lay neglected upon the floor. He leaned down to kiss her as breeches were pushed past hips and slipped about ankles, his own fingers moving over chemise ribbons and petticote ties.

[Aurore Devareaux]

As her own adornments fell to flooring below, she stepped out of pooled borders, moving backwards to hearth proximity. Water was tested in copper confine, and more added from large kettle suspended over flame touch. Satisfied, she motioned for him to enter liquid comfort, then followed.

[Ransom]

Professor Trilby sat slumped in one of the remaining rooftop chairs. Every bone in his body ached, and his lungs burned from all the smoke he'd inhaled. His singed and soot-stained turban lay in a soggy heap on the tiles, amid the ash and burned thatch.

It was only now, when he could finally rest, that he noticed the angry blisters on his hands, and the new burn-holes in his tattered robe.

But the fire had not burned his house, and for that he could almost bring himself to believe in the divine. He also realised he owed Ransom a great deal of thanks. He wondered how she would want that thanks repaid.

"Souris, God rot yea, bring me another bottle of Port."

When the dust-covered bottle was set in front of him, Trilby filled the only goblet that did not lay in glittering shards on the floor, raised it heavenward, and toasted an almighty he rarely had faith in.

[CrazyCholeBlack]

Shadowed evening light hid the satisfied smile the curved Ulises lips. Coin was the one weakness every man had. His dark eyes settled on the matching faces of the men.

“Yes, a civilized conversation about business is in order. Let us find someplace quiet” His tone was calm, disguising the triumph he began to feel well inside his chest.

Ulises’ long strides brought the three men through the darkening city to the dimly lit common room of a small inn. He settled himself quietly at a dark corner table. A mousy serving girl was sent away with a simple gesture from his scarred hand. The other men sat across from the Spaniard, a mix of interest and apprehension in their faces. A deceptively pleasant expression filled Ulises face. From his pocket two gold doubloons were drawn, one directed to each of his companions. He leaned forward, tips of his fingers pressing lightly against each other.

“There is a fine Spanish ship by the name of La Maligna here in Port Royal, captained by an undeserving Dane. It would be a shame for some ill fate to befall perhaps her many guns. Would it not gentlemen?”

The poor light glinted off his smile. He eyed the men carefully, evaluating their trust by the subtle motions they made towards the gold. He wanted La Maligna defenseless, an open target when Striker finally sailed out of the bay. As long as the ship remained capable of making the return trip to Spain, Ulises had little care for the cost. “Shall we say eight more upon completion? So long as she remains sailable, yes.”

[Ransom]

I stood on the quarterdeck of the Rakehell, watching the smoke from Port Royal as it was caught by the wind and carried out to sea. I couldn't actually see the town, as the ship had rounded the island, heading, per Sebastian's directions, for the secret cove.

An unusual nervousness griped me, more than what I knew to be normal before such a nefarious business arrangement. Not nerves due to fear, but more due to caution. Those in my line of work could easily be preyed upon, with no recourse for justice. Sebastian could be setting a trap, and I would sail the Rakehell to our deaths.

The shoreline passed by. A few small fishing boats bobbed in the swells. A flock of gulls hovered above them, screeching like bedlam.

I drummed my fingers on the rail, while my eyes scanned the sea for any sign of treachery.

[Ian Finn]

“There is a fine Spanish ship by the name of La Maligna here in Port Royal, captained by an undeserving Dane. It would be a shame for some ill fate to befall perhaps her many guns. Would it not gentlemen?”

The poor light glinted off his smile. He eyed the men carefully, evaluating their trust by the subtle motions they made towards the gold. He wanted La Maligna defenseless, an open target when Striker finally sailed out of the bay. As long as the ship remained capable of making the return trip to Spain, Ulises had little care for the cost. “Shall we say eight more upon completion? So long as she remains sailable, yes.”

My brother and I looked over our shoulders and moved closer to the table trying to figure out if this was a trap. In a hushed whisper, I asked , "So ye want 'er guns tak'n out, but no damage t' th' ship? Why not jus' take th' Cap'n?" The Spaniard sat back in his chair and crossed his hands before him with his index fingers tapping his upper lip. "Gentlemen, if that were the case, wouldn't you think I could do it myself?" Liam furrowed his brow and rested his elbows on the table. "Why can the Mah-lee-nah not use 'er guns, but mus' stay afloat? 'Twould b' easier t' sink 'er no?" The Spaniard shifted in his seat with his gaze never changing. "'ow many guns would ye say on 'er now Spaniard?" I asked the man sitting before us.

[Aurore Devareaux]

The elegant flow of velvets had been replaced with adornments of more practical nature, though the smokey scent of earlier surrouds clung with ghostly hint. Sabastian removed the crowing of well worn chapeau, resting it to balance on knee then shifted upon leather seating. Darkness fell with a molassas pace, a mimic of time progress of norm bearing in tropical clime. But for the soft nicker of equine company and the steady to and fro of salt liquid lap on shoreline, the clearing in which the Faithful had gathered, was otherwise still. Just beyond the strangle of native flora, upon a rise barely glimpsed, the evidence of shuttered lamp broke the dim with pendulum movement.

Chapeau was replaced, its' brim tugged downward in front to parrallel dark sight focus towards inlet mouth.

[Ransom]

From the velvet darkness of the night, and the darker, verdant shore, a light blinked on, bright as a fallen star. The signal.

I turned to Africa, and said softely, "Take her in as far as we dare. I don't know the depths here, and, heavy as she is, I don't want to run her aground. Have Jimmy take soundings, and see what kind of bottom we have."

"Aye, Captain," he replied, then gave orders to the others.

Slow and cautious as a cat, the Rakehell slipped into cove. As the sea bed slowly rose to meet the keel, I ordered the anchor dropped when there was twenty good feet between the ship and the bottom.

Africa returned to my side. "Do we take da Jolly boat in?"

"No. We wait. And stand by to hoist that anchor fast as you can, in case this all goes to the devil."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The delicate chime of Noir's tack played the still as mount was urged to the shoreline. Oil lamp was brought to life and handed to Loup Angelic, glow daring to caress youthful features, bringing form half-cast to those that waited like courtiers in hallowed royal halls.

Christophe goaded Bay to align next to blackened kindred, speaking in whispered tone inquery.

"We wait for mademoiselle to show her hand first, mon ami..." came hushed reply.

[Ransom]

The thickly jungled shoreline gave no hint of human or animal presence. A brilliant, waxing moon sent ribbons of pale gold over the water. No bird called, no insect trilled.

No other signal was given, nor did anyone approach the ship.

"Wot we do now," Africa asked. "Dey not going to make de first move."

Inwardly, I smiled. "They are playing a bit of the cat and mouse with us. I asked for this meeting, so he's waiting for me. Take a lantern to the bow. Cover and uncover the light three times. Let's see if we get a reply."

As Africa went to fetch a lantern, I glanced to the fighting top, where Jimmy and Tunny were crouched, muskets ready.

At the bow, a light blinked...once...twice...three times.

[Aurore Devareaux]

Blink of tallow eye danced the night air like lone firefly in stationary flight. A grin of sly renderings trekked over Beggar Prince's expression.

"Shall I go forward?" Frenchman queried.

"Non, you and the others hang back...I shall attend. Do have Seth stand at ready."

Christophe eyed Sabastian with a hint of puzzlement then agreed. Noir tread through the heavy curtain of brush, stopping where terra and water met in eternal struggle for territory. One fore hoof pawed the easy give of wet sand, sending harness bells to serenade any that would lend ear.

[Ransom]

With a smile, I saw the familier form of horse and rider. I turned to Africa. "Lower the boat."

[Aurore Devareaux]

The echo of launch being released from davit hold resounded liquid surface, adding an interuption of unatural means to the tranquillity of seclusion. Sabastian remained mounted, reaching back subtly to a binding arears of his seating. Familliar smooth of blunderbuss stock was felt and buckle released.

Noir was goaded further down landfall; dancing sideways in saline foam before straighting course. The hulk of floating powder keg rivaled the hiegths of magestic palms and Sabastian shuddered inwardly as phantoms of the Crossing came to the forefront then were forced into dismissal. Reining mount in, he waited as shadow amongst shadows, eyes keenly trained on launch progress beside swollen sides of larger vessel.

[Ransom]

Creak of oar and soft slap of water against the hull were the only sounds as Africa rowed us closer to shore. The mounted rider was barely an outline against the backdrop of palms and shrubs. Yet, I would have known him anywhere. Sebastian.

At muffled thud and a rasping of wood on sand the boat came to a stop. Africa stood, and quickly lept over the side to hold it steady in the receeding tide. I stood as well, an odd, almost sensual excitment gripping me. It was the danger, I thought. A thing I lived for, or I would not be what I was. A sudden urge to laugh griped me, at the sheer joy of it. No man bent on wooing maid, had ever met under more romantic cicumstances.

With one hand resting lightly on my belted pistol, I addressed the rider. "So, Frenchman, are you ready to take a little boat ride?"

[Aurore Devareaux]

Sabastian urged mount closer and looked down upon where she stood, "Mademoiselle, if it is a Frenchman that you wish to deal with, than I shall have one sent forth to adhere to your wants...."

A smirk graced his face as Noir was turned to retrace course.

[Ransom]

Africa turned to me. "What da problem? He be French, aint he?"

I watched Sebastian ride back to the trees. "Apparently not. I think I've insulted him."

"He name Sebastian. Dat be French."

"He's gypsy. To be honest, I don't have any idea where he comes from."

Africa snorted. "Well, he dress like dem Frenchman on de ship we stole this cargo from. I bet he French."

With my eyes trying to pierce the darkness of the shore, I replied, "French or not, I still think I insulted him." I grinned. "The night's business hasn't started out too well, has it?"

"Let hope it get better. We like ducks on a pond in dis cove."

[Aurore Devareaux]

Crossing back through the brush, Beggar Prince worked had at stifling amusement as the others looked on expectantly. A beconing motion was delivered to Childermass and Christophe to follow and former ground was regained.

Leaning down from saddle's support, Sabastian eyed Ransom in the dim light of moon above, "Here Mademoiselle, I have found for you a Frenchman and an Anglais one...."

Straightning in stature, he chuckled lightly.

[Ransom]

My palms suddenly went cold with sweat. It was the grim reaper. The man who had carried Killingsworth off to his beating and branding.

I pulled my pistol from my belt. "If that Englishman takes one step closer, I put a bullet in his eye. I don't intend to end up with a crow branded on my chest."

Keeping the pistol pointed at the reaper, I snapped, "I offered you safe passage, Sebastian. French, Italian or Turkish, I don't give a damned what you are, but that man is not part of our bargain."

[Aurore Devareaux]

" Manouche*, Mademoiselle.....Je suis Manouche." He glanced to the drawn weapon and gaged her body language carefully. Knee pressure moved mount to act as blockade to aim.

" That Englishman is under my employ and as to all this speak of branding you with avion markings....I see no raison as to why such knowledge should be at your beck and call. Now be a gentle soul and place that pistol back in its' resting place."

*Manouche is a Romani tribe of France.

[Ransom]

Without lowering the pistol, I nod to the Englishman. "He knows me. I have that knowledge because I saw him attack and take Killingsworth from the ally. I saw him in the boat that took Killingsworth to the island. I saw what was done to him, for it was myself and members of my crew who removed him from the post, dressed his wounds, and kept him alive. You want to deal, that's fine. But that man does not come on board my ship."

[Aurore Devareaux]

His eyes narrowed a fraction to the information she gave forth, Sabastian's tone gained icy manner, " And the individual, that you so boldy saved, murdered my Lover; laid threat to my sister and others of close relations. Be not so quick to place judgements until you know all that is involved. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth....Is that not what your Good Book states?"

[Ransom]

"If that's true, then you should take great satisfaction in knowing that the man is dead. Poisoned by his cousin, I hear. I'm sorry for the murder of you lover, he deserved die for it, but no man deserves branding."

A black dread gripped me. "Was it done on your order?"